The following day dawns, unsurprisingly, though dark clouds have rolled in during the night, and its hard to tell exactly when the sun rises.  By the time breakfast is finished, the rain has started again - a slow, fine drizzle, more like a cold wet fog than an honest downpour.

The oxen take this with an air of stoicism and are soon trudging along the road, passing the mounds of wet ash and charred bone which used to be ogres and travellers alike.

The rain continues in the same chilling manner for the rest of the day, seeping in under clothing and seeming to even seep through to the very bones of the adventurers.

With no shelter save the forest canopy, and a fire that burns fitfully and with much eye-stinging smoke, their camp that night brings little relief from the weather.  Perhaps because of the weather, their rest is, at least, undisturbed - though some are less happy about that than about the weather.

The following day, Darkday, starts with more rain and cold, and Jack seems to have developed a chill - coughing, sniffing and sneezing all through breakfast.

Still irked by the men they have taken on, but unwilling to see anyone suffer if possible, Eilieen roots through her gear and finally comes out with a proper cloak for a priestess of Zadastha.  She swaps that for her travelling cloak - regrettably, it's less warm and somewhat thinner - and offers her travelling cloak to Jack.

"Best you take this and stay warm."  She frowns.  "I shall see what I can do about the issue during the day and tonight - perhaps there are some medicines I might prepare, or a prayer for you to better endure the cold."

Aarnr, at least, welcomes the miserable drizzle, the dampness reminding him very much of the swamps of his homeland, and a proper smokey fire is a joy. So too he greets Jack's sudden cold as a vindication of the ill-effects of contant washing.

"Excercise, that's what thou needs," he informs the sniffler, "sweat it out." That cloak Eilieen has wrapped him in will certainly help with that.

All in all, the priest has cheered up immensely.

"How far now to Fairhill, thou clack-dish ?" he asks Corian jovially.  "An' where and when should Fergus and I meet up with thee ?"  He looks to the young man for suggestions, since he seems most familiar with the area.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Miss, but that cloak's too light for this weather.  You'll catch a cold, same as him.  He can have my cloak if he needs one." Fergus offers. "'S long as I get it back."

"There's a hill, about two miles this side of Fairhill, where there's a ruined cottage.  I can show you how to reach it from the road.  Aarnr and I can stop there till you're finished in town."

"I was going to tell you why before, Aarnr, but I forgot.  Something else happened.  Um.  I forgot why I forgot." Fergus looks embarassed.

Corian takes a few moments to study the lay of the land, though much of it is obscured by forest.  A little mental calculation of distances travelled, and then, "If I remember correctly from the maps I perused before setting out, I should say we are not far from Fairhill now.  A little way ahead we will come into more open land, and there will be a road which branches off from the Tradeway to the left.  About three miles along that road we will find Fairhill."

Fergus immediately manages to dampen the priest's mood, where the weather could not. "A cottage." Aarnr growls. Hardly the 'two brave souls living off the land, avoiding detection and hunting down monsters' that he'd envisaged as an enjoyable use of the time until the others finished froggin' around in Fairhill and rejoined them.

Ruined, though ... that has possibilities.  "Don't suppose it be haunted ?" he inquires, though with neither too much optimism nor enthusiasm.  He doesn't want to get his hopes up only to be disappointed.

"How long will ye flap-dragons be in the town ?"  Aarnr looks to Corian for an answer, though the others might have ideas of their own.  "Buy more food," he reminds them.  That was the important thing, matter now what their guide otherwise intended in Fairhill.

Corian gives Aarnr a smile which he hopes will reassure the savage priest of Bowbe, "My own intent is to simply ascertain the exact location of Eralion's manse.  I hope that will be a relatively speedy procedure.  But, certainly, while we are in the village we can obtain provisions."

Colwyn continues eating his breakfast, but adds, "If they works it right, maybe Ozzy 'n' Aramil can get us a bit o' brass ter buy more grub with.  Sing some ballad that people likes enough ter chuck a few coins in a 'at."

Another mouthful of food, and then, "Yer know, Ragnar the Red or somethin'.  Always liked that un meself."

Ozzy grins at the suggestion of putting on a performance while in Fairhill. Of course, simply suggesting a tune is as good as requesting a song for the little bard and he bounces up, singing a tune rarely heard beyond the shores of Tamriel.

" There once was a hero named Ragnar the Red, who came riding to Whiterun from ole Rorikstead!
And the braggart did swagger and brandish his blade, as he told of bold battles and gold he had made!
But then he went quiet, did Ragnar the Red, when he met the shieldmaiden Matilda who said...
Oh, you talk and you lie and you drink all our mead! Now I think it’s high time that you lie down and bleed!
And so then came the clashing and slashing of steel, as the brave lass Matilda charged in full of zeal!
And the braggart named Ragnar was boastful no moooooree… when his ugly red head rolled around on the floor!"

He plays the bridge on his tiny lute and then sings it all through one more time for good measure.

Ozzy's song is just the sort that Aarnr likes - simple and bloody - and he bangs his fist on the side of the cart in approval of the halfling's rendition.

"Just be sure you don't 'forget' about Fergus and me," he warns Corian.  He's been caught like that before. You wait here and we'll be back soon ...  Gorbellied hedge-pigs !

"Goodness, Fergus."  Eilieen can't help but smile.  "Certainly a gallant and kind offer.  That would leave you without a cloak, and you'd have to wear my ceremonial one."  An amusing image to be sure.  She looks the young man up and down.  "It would, no doubt, make you very popular back in my temple, but out here would most certainly look a little odd."

She points at Corian.  "As Master Barade notes, we shall be in town soon.  There, I can find warmth and most certain a new cloak."  Leaning over, she whispers out of the corner of her mouth.  "The old one is quite...unseemly now, and I would rather purchase another one.  That man can keep it."

The priestess winces at the Ballad of Ragnar the Red, then laughs, shaking her own head (still thankfully attached to her shoulders).  "I shall ensure that Corian does not leave without the two of you!"
This message was last edited by the player at 12:17, Mon 23 Jan 2012.

Erista taps her feet along to Ozzy's song, and gives Aarnr a mischievous grin.  "But if we remember you too well, we might not come back," she points out.  "Don't fret, though - wouldn't go off without our Fergus," she promises.

Fergus agrees with Corian's assessment.  "Yep, that'll be Millers Road.  It's about five miles from here.  So we're about, um, eight miles from Fairhill."  Fergus doesn't actually resort to counting on his fingers, but it's clear he has no aptitude for maths.

Fergus doesn't really see that there's anything wrong with the cloak Eilieen offered Jack.  The farming folk of Fairhill are a thrifty bunch and Fergus has seen many cloaks patched and re-patched until they more closely resemble a collage than a piece of clothing.  He's not sure what "unseemly" means, though, so he just nods his head sagely.  "Okay."

To Aarnr, Fergus replies, "I don't think so.  I heard tell it used to be Erstwick land.  But the land was always a rough patch, so after ol' man Erstwick died, no-one was keen to take it on.  There's better land hereabouts as long as you're happy to clear it."

"If we get bored, we could try hunting?" Fergus seems keen on the idea, if only because he's happy to have thought of a potential answer to Aarnr's dissatisfaction.  His smile falls quickly, though, "Except I don't have a bow."

Fergus' disappointment doesn't last.  He's not one to dwell on such matters and he is clearly delighted at Erista's "our Fergus" remark, giving her a warm smile of gratitude.

Aarnr returns Erista's grin with a glare.  But Fergus' clever suggestion might kill, skin and cook two birds with one stone.

"Who's got a bow ?" the big priest inquires, looking around and obviously on the scrounge. They might not return for him, and Fergus might be out clearing land, but they'll come back for the bow !

"What game do you get around here ?" Aarnr asks Fergus, trotting along beside the wagon.  "Cows ?"

Corian shakes his head slowly.  "You need have no fears concerning being left behind." he explains to Aarnr. "Fergus and yourself are the strongest fighters in this group.  I would need to be severely lacking in wits to go on to the keep, and its unknown dangers, without such mighty warriors."

"And hunting would be an excellent idea.  Fresh game, and likely more variety than would be available in the village.  A little venison would be most welcome, though I'd settle for rabbit in a pinch." he finishes with a smile.

Colwyn looks up from his now empty bowl, "Coney?  I knows a good way ter cook a coney." he says, "Not a lot ter be done with venison, mind, but I can make a coney inter a spot o' dinner fit fer a king."

Corian stands and stretches, "I suppose, if everybody has finished eating, we should start preparing to move on.  The sooner we set out, the sooner we shall arrive at our various destinations."

Ozzy gulps down the last of his breakfast and then pops up with his lute already shouldered and ready to play. He cant stop grinning as he walks, glad to be putting the cold dark nights in the countryside behind him as the group sets out for a more 'civilized' environment. The fact that most of the group had known - and shared this love - of his latest tune has him ready to skip all the way into Fairhill. He had begun to wonder if any in the group had had any real appreciation for his music up to that point.

Aramil, though still unusually quiet, mood is changing as they get closer to Fairhill. The joy of the wilds has not been to the half-elf's liking so far and a good meal and bed would be appreciated. Well any bed would do, and Aramil has eaten some truely terrible meals back home so...

He hums along to Ozzy's tune and finds his spirits lifting even further. And also being eager to return to civilisation he is quick to get ready to start the days traveling.

Nobody has a bow ?  A little disappointing - the big priest could possibly take down one beast with but his dagger, but if he is forced to resort to trapping, there is little likelihood of garnering enough meat to go around ...

Reaching into his pocket, Aarnr pulls out his money pouch, peering inside in some confusion before drawing the strings and throwing it to Erista.  "That enough for thee to buy me a froggin' bow ?" he inquires bluntly. "An' some fobbin' arrows !"

Corian's several compliments sit well with Aarnr and do much to improve his opinion of his employer.  The fop might still be a mammering clack-dish, but at least he seems to be a good judge of men.  The priest accepts the flattering remarks with a stern nod of his head, though he can't keep a smug smile off his lips.

Erista proves her worth yet again by keeping Fergus' spirits up.  Eilieen prepares herself for travel, dusting off her clothing (hopelessly) and belately checking the tip of her spear.  No, sharp as ever; she hasn't really used it yet.  "I'm certain that would be sufficient to purchase a bow," she assures Aarnr, who seems most pleased with Corian's explanation of his necessity.  A truthful explanation, to boot.

If the Priest's coin isn't enough, she decides, she'll quietly supplement it with her own coin.

Oswald's music seems infectuous this morning; Eilieen shoots an amused smile at Aramil and the bard, both humming along together.  "At least we will march to town to a beat," she muses.  But the smile fades, replaced by a concerned frown.  "Fergus?  Aarnr?  Do be careful."

Erista catches the pouch with a generally bemused look of someone being thrown free money, jingling it briefly and shrugging.  "Probably," she very nearly promises.